Day 182, Sunday, August 12. Inn at Long Trail—10.6 miles

“ 🎶 Babe. I’ve…got…you..babe 🎶 Rise and shine campers. It’s GROUNDHOG DAY!”  Today is our 6 month anniversary on the trail. It is beginning to feel like Groundhog Day to us. We get up, eat breakfast, pack up, hike all day, set up camp, eat supper, and go to bed. Sometimes it might be nice to be able to throw in a murder and not have it count against us, but such is life. I don’t have the heart to tell Bunny that the time duration for Bill Murray was 10,000 years. She’s had her fill after a mere 6 months. 

We did something a little different this morning to break up the routine—we ate breakfast in our tent since it was raining outside. It had rained a good portion of the night, not hard, but still rain.  We got the opportunity to pack up in the rain, also.  We regrouped in the shelter (which was unoccupied all night—Bunny and Sassy have developed aversions to mice) for final adjustments before heading out. This also gave me a chance to get my morning constitutional in and Sassy to fire off her second round of her double barrel. 

The first event for the day was to rejoin the 4000’ club.  We had roughly a 2300’ foot climb up Killington.  It was almost 4.5 miles to the top, so by the standards of VA, it was a level walk (any grade less than 500’ per mile is considered level—a neat little corollary to the VA standard is that the AT, as a whole, is a flat walk for 2200 miles). Killington is the first mountain since central VA that is over 4000’ above sea level.  It’s also good preparation for the Whites. 

We are, of course, traveling with Sassy and Bear. This has the additional meaning that every climb over 1000’ that ends with a potential view, will be fogged in.  We are 3 for 3 with them as of today. The fog was patchy when we made it to Cooper Lodge just below the summit. To reach the summit requires ascending a side trail behind the Lodge. It looked like it might clear off as Bunny began her summit run, but Bear quickly caught up to her ensuring a thick fog for us all when we made Killington Peak. 

It was no where near a total loss. There is a very nice lodge on the front side of the mountain (if Cooper Lodge is considered the back). We weren’t sure if it was open, but we got a good whiff of hamburgers on the peak. Sassy usually likes to be the caboose when we are hiking, but not this time. She was like a bloodhound chasing an escaped convict. She had a good sinus full of burger and all we could do was following her baying ahead of us in the fog. She did good and led us straight to the restaurant. 

We found what some might consider to be “reasonably priced food.”  I am not part of that subset of society, but I do understand it takes effort to get everything to the top of a mountain. I remember trekking around Annapurna with Katherine who wouldn’t pay 125 rupees for a tube of Pringles when you could get the same can for 80 rupees in Kathmandu.  The exchange rate was 85 rupees to $1, and a person had to carry everything into the mountains. I don’t think a $0.50 price increase to be unreasonable. I got a $19 hamburger. That included the ambiance of a fogged in mountain compliments of Bear and Sassy. In this case, it was worth every penny. 

It was a long descent from the top down to the bottom of the mountain. This is when I was betrayed once again, but not by Bear, or Sassy, or even Bunny. This time, it was my body and it started with my feet. Actually, it was Paul. The big bunion on my left foot (not to be confused with Babe on my right foot). It started when a root jumped up and tried to grab my foot. I’m normally a pious man not prone to swearing as will be confirmed by my traveling companions, but I nearly blacked out from the pain. When I regained my composure, I noticed my mouth had started spewing a series of “f” bombs. Since this is Vermont, no one really paid any attention. 

I hobbled on down behind the rest of the tramily. I am Easily Forgotten, so no one even noticed that I was falling behind. Every now and then, I would catch up when the rest stopped to talk to other hikers. At Churchill Scott Shelter, we passed the 1700 mile mark. I caught up once again to take pictures. Some nameless member of the group had to use the privy.  The only hint I’ll give as to who is to say that “yes, bears do shit in the woods.”  I kept going in the hopes of making it to the road at the same time as everyone else. I was feeling miserable, betrayed, and pissed off. I’m the youngest member of the group, but I’m the weak link. 

I thought it would be easy to hitch a ride to Inn at Long Trail which is only a mile to the east of the trail. Give the women the sign and let them do their magic. Nay, nay, nay—walk, we must. My left foot was throbbing and my right Achilles felt like I had a marble under my heel.  I’m too young to be falling apart. I tried to just keep going.  Bear slowed down and walked with me which helped to get my mind off of my pain. He’s got some great stories from his 38 years working for NASA. For a mechanical engineer, he’s a good guy. If he needed a EE for a system reboot last night, I could use a ME to keep my mind off of the mechanical failures of my body. This may be what it feels like to mature on the trail—after 30 years, I’m getting an appreciation for MEs. Nah, I’m just a little delirious from my pain.

The Inn has an Irish restaurant downstairs. We got the last hiker room available which turned out to be a fantastic deal for us. Each couple got a room and we shared a bath between the four of us. The Inn even had loaner clothes for hikers. We took showers and headed down to the bar for supper while our clothes were getting washed. A beer, some Irish Stew,  a Shepherds Pie, a few glasses of iced tea, and some ice cream in good company is all it took to get my spirits back up. I tried to trade our double bed to Sassy and Bear in exchange for a foot massage, but didn’t get a favorable response. I was aiming too high. 

EFG